


See Me Kneel

by aidennestorm



Series: Protecting and Proud [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Cullen/Meredith, Implied/Referenced Grooming, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lyrium Addiction, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Referenced Cullen/Surana, Safeword Use, Self-Victim Blaming, Sub Cullen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:00:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aidennestorm/pseuds/aidennestorm
Summary: Cullen wants nothing more than to submit to Adaar, but he has some personal history to navigate along the way.
Relationships: Female Adaar/Cullen Rutherford, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Series: Protecting and Proud [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2176734
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	See Me Kneel

Herah sits regally behind her desk in a high-backed chair, thighs spread and hands steepled in front of her smirking lips. Flames roar in the fireplace and hold back the night that presses at the windows, twin to the fire that burns in her dark eyes. Her expression is carefully neutral, but there’s the slightest lilt to her voice when she orders, “Kneel, Cullen.”

Even as his cock stirs in interest, he swallows heavily. This is… new, unfamiliar in practice, thus far confined only to careful discussions. He longs to please her—this beautiful woman, his love, his Inquisitor—and he _wants_ this, he _asked_ for it, so amidst the churning in his gut he can only partially describe as ‘pleasant’, he obeys.

On his knees, between the sturdy desk at his back and her strong legs at his front, he looks up at her and—

_“Good,” Meredith declares; it sounds more like a condemnation, matching the sneer on her face. She lifts her booted foot and presses it to Cullen’s thigh, the clank of armor heavy and unyielding._

_He knows what’s expected of him. He doesn’t think about grimy, filthy streets, he_ can’t, _as he leans in and presses his lips to cool steel._

_Her eyes gleam. “You just may serve me well yet, Cul—”_

“—len?”

_He’s shaking. He’s in Meredith’s office and he’s shaking as she holds him still with one gauntleted hand, as she stands close and overbearing against his back._

_“You’ve done well this week. Keep up the good work, Knight-Captain.”_

_Her words are casual but he sways a little, leans into her praise. “Thank you, Knight-Commander,” he says—then, fighting through the feverish pounding in his temples and the sweat dripping down the nape of his neck, adds, “It is only due to your tutelage and grace that I succeed.”_

_A hum, and the vial is finally,_ finally _brought within reach. He parts his lips and drinks eagerly, throat burning with each swallow of blue. He can breathe again, he can_ think, _encroaching shadows smoothed away by—_

“Lyrium. _Lyrium,_ Cullen, can you hear me?”

_The demon wears Surana’s face, sunshine eyes ringed by thick tattoos, shorn white hair and delicately pointed ears. Cullen shuts his eyes tight against the hunger in that inhuman stare, but long clawed fingers force his chin to rise, force themselves beneath his robes to grope him._

_He sobs, trying in vain to wrench himself away. “No! Maker,_ stop, _please!”_

_“You can hide, templar, but I’ll be here,” it purrs, Fade-breath hot on his throat, teeth possessively pricking his skin. “I’ll always be right—”_

“—beside you. You’re _safe._ It’s Herah, and you’re in my quarters in Skyhold—”

He blinks.

He _knows_ that voice, trusts it with an instinctive pull as strong as the visions trapping his own mind.

He blinks, and takes a shuddering breath when his eyes finally focus on Herah crouching beside him, chair shoved haphazardly away from the desk. Her hands hover over his shoulders, close but not touching, mouth slashed thin with worry and guilt gathering like a maelstrom on her brow.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps. “I… don’t believe I can continue.”

His heart plummets with the crumpling of her face. He starts to reach for her, aiming to soothe, but with familiar dexterity and grace she slips out from beneath his searching grasp. “No apologies,” she says firmly, carefully tucking her arms beneath his. When he leans into the touch, she helps him to his feet and starts guiding them toward the bed. “You’ve done _nothing_ to warrant apologizing. I shouldn’t have— _fuck_ _.”_

 _Lyrium,_ she’d said, the moment she recognized his distress. Instantly protecting when he mistook encroaching memories for mere nervousness. _“Herah,”_ he murmurs, brushing his fingertips across her flushed cheek as she settles him into warm blankets. “It wasn’t your fault. You’re the first person I’ve ever—I didn’t _know,”_ he confesses, helpless. “I never expected such a… _thing_ to happen. If I don’t need to apologize, neither do you. I promise you, I truly wanted this to go well.”

She presses their foreheads together, tangles her fingers with his, meets his eyes with careful openness. “For me?”

He hears the worry beneath her question and squeezes her hands. “For _us.”_

Some of the deep-set creases in her face ease.

The ensuing silence stretches long, but she doesn’t move. Waiting for him to speak, patient and gentle as ever. It’s that realization that makes the words burst forth like blood from a fresh wound, like the blood that flowed in Kirkwall’s streets and on mage hands and templar blades alike. Not about the Circle, the oldest and deepest scar, of which she already knows—but every moment with Meredith, every moment she held his next dose of lyrium in her hands, every moment she tested him to see if he would break.

“I was lucky,” he finally rasps. “Templar abuses can be much worse. There was a known rapist in our ranks, even. Meredith was not that.”

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t still bad.”

He shakes his head—or, _tries_ to, and realizes that his whole body is shaking instead. “It was,” he stammers, then the words come stumbling and tripping out of his mouth, so fast he can’t stop them. “It was humiliating. _Mortifying._ I only wanted to serve but Meredith and her lust for power twisted it, corrupted it, even before the red lyrium consumed her. In her eyes I didn’t serve the order, I served _her,_ and she made me aware of it, believe me.”

He can’t be still another moment. He wrenches himself from the warmth of Herah’s presence and staggers out of bed; she sits up, watching quietly as he paces. 

“Yet of all the... _indignities_ she forced on me, they could have been worse. I had experienced worse even before I arrived in Kirkwall. What made _me_ deserving of escaping the fate that befell all others under her thumb? I even looked away when the same thing was happening to others, so how do I have _any_ right to—”

His voice cracks and he cuts himself short, burying his face in his hands.

“Cullen,” Herah murmurs, soft but firm. “You _cannot_ compare your experience to anyone else’s. Not even your own past. What happened to you in Kirkwall was wrong.”

“I _caused_ it.”

“You _didn’t,”_ she presses. “What Meredith did—even _with_ your help—would _never_ warrant what you went through. And for the rest… you are atoning, every day.”

Only now does he lower his hands and turn back to her, blinking a sudden stinging from his eyes. “You might regret saying that. I fear I’ll need many reminders.”

Herah opens her arms for him immediately. “I’ll tell you as often as you need reminding.”

He trembles as he climbs into bed beside her.

He trembles, and she holds him.

**Author's Note:**

> So many inspirations for this one!!
> 
> First, [this art by exadorlion started it all](https://exadorlion.tumblr.com/post/630254740638433280/bootlicker)—as soon as I saw it, I yelled “IT’S MEREDITH” and was enamored with the helpless, desolate hunger from Cullen it depicted, so this fic rapidly started taking shape.
> 
> [And then I found this art by jaegerjaqueass](https://jaegerjaqueass.tumblr.com/post/631173805224656896/on-the-relationship-between-addiction-and-devotion) that gave me the boost to complete this fic—the double meaning of Cullen being bound in service to lyrium and everything it stood for, plus how it unintentionally played into the D/s themes I’d established, was a sheer delight.
> 
> Go check them out and give these artists some love!!! :D
> 
> Second, I chose Cullen’s safeword before I knew that (spoilers ahead!) [you can actually have a conversation with a romanced Iron Bull about them](https://youtu.be/ibluyq8M5yA)! Highly recommend this scene, it’s fantastic— and I’m excited I got close to “canon”. XD
> 
> And one of my favorite songs, [”Snow White Queen” by Evanescence](https://youtu.be/TG8_sWlTZaA), was on repeat while I wrote the flashback scenes.
> 
> I have a lot of ~feelings about Cullen and his trauma recovery, so you’ll likely be seeing these themes again. I hope I do them justice. <3


End file.
